For Warmth
by redcandle
Summary: New Night's Watch scout Theon Greyjoy accompanies the lord commander on a trip north of the Wall and resents him every step of the way. Jon/Theon.


Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements from A Song of Ice and Fire belong to George R.R. Martin. No copyright infringement is intended.

Theon was colder than he had ever been in his life. And although he'd never admit it to the bastard, he was afraid. The cold that leeched away his warmth and the snow that made it difficult to see were bad enough, but there was worse waiting for them: a host of the dead commanded by _Others_.

His hand went to the hilt of the obsidian blade Snow had given him, even though Theon suspected it was a joke the bastard was playing on him. He had a good steel sword at his other hip anyway. "How much further?"

"Not far," Snow replied, dislike sharp in his voice as ever.

Theon entertained fantasies of them being attacked, Snow dying and him fighting, him heroically returning to Castle Black and being elected Lord Commander. Just what Snow feared. Theon was new to the Night's Watch, unfamiliar with the area north of the Wall. If Snow hadn't feared the men turning to Theon while he was gone, he would have chosen a more experienced scout to accompany him.

When they finally stopped, Theon hastily built a fire and resisted the urge to curl beside it until after he'd tended his garron. As he ate, he noticed that the bastard wasn't putting out his bedding on the other side of the fire like he expected. He was right beside Theon.

The bastard offered no explanation. He pulled his cloak over him and scooted close. Theon drew up his knees to keep some distance between them.

"Turn around," Snow commanded.

Theon snorted.

"I'm not going to freeze to death because of you, Greyjoy. Turn around."

Theon reluctantly turned over, holding still as Snow molded himself against his back and slung an arm around his middle. Many nights at Winterfell he had lain beside some wench and thought of Robb sharing a warm bed with his bastard brother and hated Snow for it.

He shifted, trying to get more comfortable as he started to drift into slumber, and Snow shifted with him. It took Theon a moment to realize there was a hardness pressing into his arse. He started to roll away, but Snow held him tight, stronger now than when Theon had known him as a boy.

"Not a word," Snow warned. "It's…it's got nothing to do with _you_."

"I'm not going to let you bugger me, bastard."

"I wouldn't put my cock in you for all the gold in Casterly Rock," Snow retorted, even as he rubbed himself against Theon. He slid his hand down, finding Theon hard, and squeezing almost too tight.

Theon imagined himself shoving the bastard facedown and fucking him until he screamed. He thrust against Snow's hand. Abruptly, Snow released him and eased back just a little. Theon groped behind him. The bastard was soft now. Theon had too much pride to finish himself under such circumstances. He tried to ignore the aching need and slept, finding no relief in dreams.

He awoke to a light kick in the ribs.

"Get up and get to work," ordered Snow.

Theon obeyed resentfully, breaking camp and caring for the horses while Snow wandered off into the trees.

"It took that long to shit?" he asked when Snow returned. "You should see a maester."

"I was praying," Snow said, his voice near as frigid as the northern wind.

Theon had heard there was a grove of weirwood trees a short distance from Castle Black. But he and Snow had ridden all day yesterday. This had to be a different grove.

"I'll wait for Ghost. You can go back now if you want."

"I don't know the way," Theon had to admit.

Snow smirked and pointed south. "That way. Once you get pass those trees, you'll see the Wall. Just keep riding straight to it."

Theon looked around carefully. The snow had stopped and he could see clearly for the first time. He clenched his fists as he realized what had happened. Snow had led them around in wide circles yesterday. Theon had been the finest hunter at Winterfell and it rankled that Snow had been able to play such a trick on him.

"Bastard," he hissed, taking a step closer to Snow.

"That's _Lord_ Snow to you," the bastard retorted. "Disrespect to your superior officer is a punishable offense. Report for latrine duty when you get back."

He wanted to hit Snow but he knew he couldn't unless he meant to kill him. Although he could always say they'd been attacked…

A huge white direwolf came stalking into view, its red eyes on Theon. Theon remembered riding beside Robb in battle, struggling to control his horse as Grey Wind took down every man and horse in his path. He shivered and did the only thing he could.

"As you say, my lord."


End file.
